


Never Mind the Void Outside My Window

by Trekkele



Series: Trek Fest 2018 [3]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Rated B for Bones, You Have Been Warned, casual character resurection bcuz canon is only good for so much, cynisism, i dont know how to tag this its a sprawling mess Bones is a stubborn bastard, i think thats how its spelled, theres less cursing than i thought but more than usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 14:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15002600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trekkele/pseuds/Trekkele
Summary: He didn't join up because he believed. It takes some time before he changes his mind.Five or so times Dr. Leonard H. McCoy wasn't sure why he put up with StarFleet's bullshit and the one time he knew exactly why.





	Never Mind the Void Outside My Window

**Author's Note:**

> There is a reason I usually write Jim centric fics. It's because Jim is the only one who will fucking talk to me, come on boys, COOPERATE.
> 
> Uh, do I look like I own these kids? No

Starfleet, Len had decided, was full of shit.

Join up, Pike said. We always need good people, Pike said. You’ll be so fucking outta place your teeth’ll hurt, Pike didn’t say.

 

Half the cadets on this shuttle look so shiny he was fairly certain they'd smell of twentieth century plastic. The other half look like they think Leonards the hired help.

 

Well, they aren't wrong. He's well aware he looks ~~slightly~~ , entirely manic.

And the flask he's carrying around is definitely not helping his image.

 

Someday, he thinks, in a decade or so (if he lives that long), he's gonna look back at this exact moment and ask himself why he didn't just jump outta the shuttle at liftoff, cuz this was the absolute dumbest fucking thing he's ever done in his entire goddamn life.

 

And he’s including a one night stand with the only species who could get a human male pregnant. (College was a glorious, experimental time in the red blooded human males life. Far be it from him to deny it.)

 

Which was when Mr. My-Smile-Is-Brighter-Than-The-Fucking-Sun decides Len needs a seat buddy. He does not need a seat buddy. He really fucking does not.

So for some reason he's offering the beat up blonde maybe-cadet-maybe-stowaway from his flask because he refuses to be the only not sober person on this hell boat, and for some reason the cadet across the aisle is rolling her eyes and smirking, long brown ponytail swaying as they take off.

Shit.

 

Oh Holy Shit.

 

Pike can kiss his pretty Georgian ass, he wants off this damn thing, now please, hey ponytail open the airlock thingy, there's a distinct lack of air in his general vicinity, could we maybe back this damn thing up please??

 

He takes it back, he doesn't need to wait ten years to regret this fool decision, he regrets it right fucking now.

 

So of fucking course, this is when blondy decides to start talking likes he's keeping the boat up by the sheer amount of words he’s spewing. He’d concentrate but theres a fucking miniscule amount of turbulence and he can feel it down to his whiskey bitter-drenched soul.

 

“Hey, Doc, c’mon, talk to me, is the new psychology protocol bullshit or is it actually worth the padds it's being distributed on? Help me out here, Cadet Uhura didn't read the article I’m talking about.”

 

“What the hell are you blathering on about kid?” He considers taking another drink but he knows, he knows he's gonna need it when they get to landing so he turns to Mr. Sunshine at his left and notices how Pretty Miss Ponytail (Uhura apparently) is giving them both a considering, almost curious look, and curious is good,  better’n disgust, he can deal with curious.

 

“C’mon, it's been in every medical journal for the past six months. They’re expanding the psych protocols again, updating them and whatever, I wanna know what you think of Dehners latest article on the command persona theory”

 

McCoy’s not an idiot,  he knows the kids trying to distract him, but damn if he isn't impressed by his methods.

 

His second greatest vice (after the whiskey and bourbon and existential despair, but those come together so they count as one) has always been the journals that are scattered around the medical break rooms,. There's a certain satisfaction in reading a damn good article, even when it blows your own theories outta the water.

Why a kid who looks like he lost a fight with an angry barstool knows about them is beyond his current grasp of polite conversation.

 

“What makes you think I'm in psychology kid?” He throws a glare and a raised eyebrow over at Miss Uhura, who just keeps that snippy little smirk and raises an eyebrow of her own back at him. He wonders if these two know each other or if she’s the reason he currently looks like a cage match reject. Based on their body language he'd say yes.

 

“Oh please, this threw the entire medical community for a loop over client doctor confidentiality and the implications over sharing psych results. Even a regular doctor would know something about it.”

 

Damn but the kid was something. Apparently he wasn't blowing air. “Dehner you said? I think I caught that one, freshen me up a bit, this was before or after Antoni’s article on the original protocols?”

 

He didn't end up using that flask at landing either.

 

\----

 

Fuck. _Feelings_. Feelings fucking everywhere, and no, StarFleet Command, he does not want to _talk_ about it.

 

He would stay silent throughout the entire two hour mandatory psych eval if he had to.

 

Fuck this. And as a doctor with an advanced psych degree, he felt supremely qualified to say that, because feelings were fucking complicated and a little useless right now so excuse me Ms. StarFleet Appointed Psychiatrist he does not want to talk about them.

 

Which was when she took one look at him, and pulled out a deck of cards.

 

“Poker or blackjack?”

 

“ _Excuse me?”_

 

“We both know you're as likely as a Vulcan to discuss whatever made command think a detailed eval was necessary, and we both know that psychology degree you have is going to make it useless anyways, so instead of wasting both our times, poker? or blackjack?”

 

Hell if he didn't know exactly what she was doing and hell if he didn’t care. He could respect a someone who used poker to get what they wanted.

 

“Poker. And I don't suppose you have something to drink?”

 

\-----

 

This was bullshit. Complete fucking bullshit. StarFleet was bullshit. But he knew that.

 

He needed coffee. Spiked coffee.

 

If this bullshit of an inquest went on much longer he was going to give up his fucking commission, watch him.

Like he ever had a fucking _choice_.

 

He was hyper focused on Dr. Phlox, but since he had zero fucking clue how a Denobulan would show disappointment, he couldn't tell how he was doing. As soon as this shitshow was over he’d have to ask Jim. Sounds like something the paranoid idiot would know.

 

Three admirals (well, two admirals and Captain Pike) and two medical authorities, fucking hell, you could think he'd experimented illegally on a sentient, or sold prescription drugs, or something truly horrible, like performed surgery while completely wasted.

 

“Cadet McCoy, do you understand the charges against you?”

 

Does he - like they hadn't just spent the last twenty minutes telling him exactly what he’d done, fucking hell, he needed coffee so bad.

As if they hadn't just _read his own report_ back to him.

 

Fuck if he was going to play along with this little power trip.

 

“As we are here today because of my actions as a doctor, I’d appreciate being addressed as such, Admiral.”

 

If he didn't know better he'd say Captain Pike was smirking.

 

Doctor/Commodore Boyce _definitely_ smirked, which, fuck that was never good,

“Very well, _Doctor McCoy_ , why are you here?”

 

_Well, sir, I wrote a pretty detailed report, why don't you pay attention next time when someone reads it sir._

 

His internal monologue was either getting more sarcastic as he aged or he spent way to much time with James Kirk. Fuck if he knew which was worse.

 

_Deep breaths McCoy. If you go out, go out swinging._

 

Definitely spending to much time with Jim, using fight metaphors at a disciplinary hearing.

 

“Well, Sir, it's in regards to my actions on Deymar iii, specifically that the vaccine we developed and subsequently tested in several computer simulations, and then administered and taught the local doctors to administer. Sir.”

 

Dr. Boyce leaned forward slightly, smirking again and Leonard decided that while he wouldn't mind working for the man, he'd be damned if they ever played poker. Man was fucking unnerving, with that dumb smirk.

 

“Is that all, Dr. McCoy? Hardly seems to be the basis for disciplinary action.”

 

_Trust me sir, I agree_

 

He could feel his face twist up, what where they waiting for a signed confession? He’d already delivered that, in the form of one overly detailed report.

 

“Upon my request to deliver the vaccine, once we knew it was absolutely safe and effective, I was told to wait for final approval from StarFleet Command. Even through my repeated requests and the reports coming in that had us predicting fatalities ranging in the hundred thousand if we didn't deliver the cure and vaccines immediately, my requests were being denied, over waiting for approval from command.

Given my limited options, I used my rank to convince a colleague to accompany me to the surface so that we could administer the cure and vaccine where we could, as well as teach the local medical board how to manufacture it.”

 

Christine would probably castrate him for that, but he'd be fucked if he let her destroy her career before she got around to earning her MD like she said she would, _“I'm just taking my time Len, not all of us are overcompensating by doing it in 7 years”._

 

“So you disregarded direct orders and delivered experimental care to a non federation planet”

 

Bull-fucking-shit. Jim better be in the mood for whiskey tonight, Len was gonna get really fucking drunk.

 

“The vaccine was effective, the cure worked. If you're half the doctor your papers suggest you are sir, you'll have reviewed _all_ my reports and you know that we took every precaution to make sure it was safe. Waiting for a yes we knew was coming would put unnecessary lives at risk, and that not something I was willing to do.”

 

He was tired and angry and really feeling pretty fucking inadequate, because if there was one thing he was terrible at it was bullshit dressed up as diplomacy, and this was why he needed people like Christine and Uhura and Jim, because while he could cure an obscure alien disease in the middle of quadrant bumfuck nowhere, he couldn’t talk his way out of the disciplinary hearing after.

 

Except apparently he could, because Dr Phlox was smiling, which wow was that a bad look for Denobulans, and Boyce was clapping Captain Pike on his shoulder and laughing about something.

He was either scott free or royally screwed and he wasn't sure which was worse right now.

 

“Well, Dr McCoy, considering the circumstances I agree that this hearing was a bit over the top, but we did need to be certain of your motives.

Captain Pike has recommended you take a few more command classes, but otherwise you should be clear.

And, following your actions, the Deymarians have finally agreed to a trade deal with StarFleet, and have decided to award both you and Christine Chapel with honorary citizenship and a rank in their science council, so congratulations are in order. There will be a commendation in your file regarding this matter.”

 

“Command classes sir?” Because of course his fool head gets stuck on that one thing, instead of the fact that he’ll be celebrating tonight instead of drinking away another failure.

 

“Hmm yes, it will allow for you to make these unilateral decisions in the field. Eventually.

Dismissed, _Doctor_ ”

 

\---

Except of course Jim was waiting outside, looking so goddamn casual McCoy would almost believe he didn't care, if it wasn't for the poker chip he was rolling and flipping from one hand to the other, over his knuckles and back. Bad habit, but since Len’s the only one who seems to realize what it means, he's never pointed out that it's a really big tell for when Kirk’s nervous.

 

“Well, kid, apparently your still stuck with me”

Kirk jumps, reaching out to catch the poker chip without looking away from McCoy’s face. He smiles slowly, “Well, damn. I was gonna turn your bunk into a bar. Host a coupla parties.”

 

McCoy grabs his arm, starts walking towards the mess hall. He still needs some goddamn coffee.

“Sure kid. We both know you'd just fill it up with paper books, like the actual fucking nerd you are.”

 

Kirk matched his strides, laughing and throwing his hand up against his heart “Why Bones!”, he gasps in mock horror, the overdramatic idiot, “Are you accusing me of actually giving a damn?”

 

“Hell yes. You better, since I’ll be joining some of your command classes now.” He ignores the splutters and “hey what?” and smirks as Kirk starts asking his usual thousand questions.

 

Coffee. Than classes. Could have been worse, he supposes.

 

\---

 

The less said about StarFleet Training Sims the better.

 

No really, they were not discussing this.

 

“So why,” does Jim ask, both mocking and exasperated and _God, Bones, shut up if you hate them so much_ , “Are you still complaining about them?”

 

Whoever let those fools near phasers, he swears on all that’s holy…

 

They were not discussing the sims. No.

 

\---

 

He takes it back. Command classes are worse than that joke of an inquest.

 

At least he’s in good company. Well, company he can have intelligent conversation with. Jim always took his classes surprisingly serious, or surprising if you believed half the rumors swirling around the kid (Bones had made that mistake exactly once. He still regrets it).

But even with that, Jim still found time to send dumb little comments on the group chat he’d made. He and Gaila had a habit of trading bad puns during the truly boring classes, and the only way to stop them would be by being an ass and sending the absolute worst pun you could think of. Uhura was somehow a genius at that.

 

Sarcastic quips and underhanded commentary aside, it was nice sharing classes with Jim, Uhura, and Gaila. Why the irrepressible engineering student was taking command classes was beyond him, but then again, he was taking command classes as well.

Somethings don't need explanations. Gaila seemed to be one of them.

 

But Jim’s been surprisingly quiet the whole time. Or, well, maybe not _surprising_. Today's lecture was one of the really shitty ones, “Command Decisions and the Prime Directive - Why Aiding Pre-Warp Societies Does more Harm than Help”.

 

McCoy, if he was being honest, could see their point. Vaguely. Like, he could _see_ it. He just thought it wasn't worth the crayon wax he’d need to destroy it. His six year old daughter could argue it down to the smoking pile of bull it was. (Than again, Joanna was incredibly smart. No really Jim, stop _cooing_ you thrice damned idiot.)

 

At the very least, they should allow Cadets an open debate with the lecturer. At the very least they should allow them to debate their differences of opinions, wasn't that what made the federation stronger? (So he read _some_ brochures before signing up, screw you.) And as far as he could tell, they usually did.

But for some reason no one seemed very inclined to argue with one of the most important rules StarFleet had. _Shocking_ , really.

 

The lecturer had been babbling on about the importance of the chain of command, and receiving proper clearance for all actions and how protocol, protocol would be the savior of all.

 

Like he’d said, bullshit.

 

Jim leaned over and whispered something in Gaila’s ear, who was glaring at the professor as though he had personally insulted her brother and father and entire house. She nodded, muttering something that sounded like, “pretentious blowhard” back, but in Orion. Because apparently he was the only one of these kid wonders who only spoke two and half languages instead of the odd ten. Although, Uhura shouldn’t really count there.

 

But of fucking course, the asshat at the podium noticed this. And apparently decided Gaila would be an easy target. Len leaned back in his truly uncomfortable chair, dear god he was too old for this, and crossed one ankle over his knee. This was gonna be fucking good.

 

“Cadet, do you have something to say?”

 

Couldn’t even be bothered to ask her name, or figure it out using the auto-seat charts. Ass.

 

Gaila, being the more cheerfully-approachable half of the Uhura-and-Gaila-Friendship, didn't have the same don’t-fuck-with-me reputation of her roomate. Which was hilarious to Len, because he’d seen her verbally eviscerate someone while drunk out of her mind, and than take him down using a broken stiletto. While still, _completely slushed_ , out of her pretty green head.

 

“Actually, I do.

 

 _What makes you better?_ ”

 

“Pardon me, Cadet?”

 

“Of course, sir.” Irrepressible, he swears. Jim snickered, whether he meant to draw heat off Gaila’s cheeky grin and barely there insubordination, Len wasn't quite sure. But it worked.

 

“Cadet Kirk, why don't you elaborate, since you seem to agree with Cadet…”

“Vro, sir”

“Cadet Vro.”

 

Of course this one knew who Jim was but not Gaila. Go figure.

 

Bones remembers this debate, between Gaila and Uhura and Jim. His own position very clear, he'd never bothered to join in. And while at the end of the day, they all agreed that the prime directive was just dressed up bullshit and excuses made by men behind desks, the degrees to which they believed that, and the different levels of belief they had in the system, made for pretty interesting dinner conversations. That is, till they inevitably devolved into klingon insults and creative cursing 101. Honestly,  _infants_ , the lot of them.

 

But if course now Kirk is standing next to Gaila, both of them at perfect attention, ignoring Uhura's face in her hands, because the poor idiot didn't know what was about to hit him, and Len’s smirk, because _the poor idiot wouldn’t know what hit him._

 

Let it never be said that a little humiliation isn't good for the soul.

 

“As Cadet Vro stated, the hypocrisy behind the Prime Directive can be argued down to, _What makes you better_? And that question essentially applies to any of us.

After all, did you, personally, create the warp drive? Do you even know how to build one? Or do you understand the science behind it?

Because once you parse away the details and the standards, that's how we judge other species, right? That's one of the main measures we use, whether or not a species is capable of Warp Speed, of contacting us on their own.

So, if you were in danger, could StarFleet save you, since you _personally_ are not capable of building a warp drive? But then again, the prime directive, you could argue, is never about the individuals, it’s about the species as a whole. It’s never about the children who are starving or dying or the people who desperately want help and can’t find someone to ask, about the ones who won’t _exist_ if someone doesn’t _do something_.

So is that what makes us better? The fact that our society _as a whole_ has evolved to the point where we can travel through the stars?

A society, which has had thousands of years to reach this point? Is that what gives us this, this control, this power to decide whether or not a species deserves our help, whether a culture deserves to be saved?

We are not more worthy than any other species. We could even argue that maybe all we did is get lucky, and no extinction level event wiped us out before we could ask for help. Maybe it’s a long line of coincidences that allowed us to develop further than being bipedal apes with sharp rocks.

Or maybe, centuries ago, a different species came here to help.

And there are ways to help. The non-interference clause in the Prime Directive is based on this assumption that help must always be offered in a way that will interfere with a developing species.

But there are ways to preserve a society without affecting the outcome of their evolution. Slipping a vaccine into the water supply. Deactivating an active volcano. Destroying an asteroid before it can hit a planet.

This overarching arrogance of the non-interference clause is so dangerous, because how long before we use it to justify the unjustifiable? How long before “allowing a genocide to happen”, becomes, “causing one ourselves”? Inaction can be just as damning as action itself, and how long before we lose sight of what StarFleet truly is, what we stand for?“

 

Len could feel his jaw dropping, along with everyone else's, because, damn, Gaila and Jim’s little debates had clearly been covering up for some serious conversation. Uhura was nodding silently, head tilted like some bright eyed bird.

 

“Cadet McCoy, maybe you have something to add?” Len whipped his head back around to face the lecturer, because _why the fuck was he bringing me into this_??? Hell no, he did not have the inclination to join this little conversation.

 

Except, he _didn't_ agree, and Gaila was fucking right, and Jim was right, and you know what? He was taking this fucking class, might as well remind these idiots _why_.

 

Yeah he could stand at attention and deliver pretty speeches on ethics too, so there fuckers.

As long as diplomacy wasn’t necessary.

 

“Well sir, as a practicing doctor, I can base my disagreement on that. Y’see, there's an oath we all take before graduating. Left over from a time when humanity still believed in Gods and Titans and medicine was a little more than rattling a stick and praying, some people might consider it obsolete. But we still recite it, and a doctor found guilty of violating this oath is ultimately barred from ever practicing medicine again.

One of the most important tenets of this oath, and possibly the most well known, is-

_That above all - we must not play god._

-And there are a lot of interpretations of that, sir, and its changed throughout history. But now, in a time when we can often mistake _ourselves_ for the gods, I mean, it’s not a stretch - the all powerful beings descending from the heaven, bringing peace and health to beings below? Now that we’ve reached this point, it’s come to mean something like this:

 _We are not gods_. And as doctors, as healers, we have a duty to help everyone we meet, whether we find them worthy or wanting or if they are the opposite of everything we believe in.

And that is _because_ we are not gods.

We do not get to decide who is worthy of being saved, who gets to join us in the stars.

We have the ability to help so many different species, and how dare we call ourselves a humanitarian organization and than refuse to help, just because we think we know the consequences.

And that at the end of the day is the paradox of the prime directive -

Because, if we do not help, if we don’t extend ourselves as a helping hand, if we don’t use what we’ve learnt on behalf of others,  -

 _What makes us better_?”

 

Between the three of them, this conversation could go in circles all day, because the prime directive was full of shit, and everyone knew it. It was a baseline, a guardrail, a way to remind people that they would be held accountable for their decisions, but it should never stop them from doing what was necessary to _help_. That standing aside as people died would never be _right_.

The lecturer, all for being an asshat, leaned back against the podium and...smirked? up at all of them.

 

Bones was getting very tired of all these mind games.

 

“Very good. A thought provoking analysis. But more of you should have been questioning that. I expected more, more _resistance_ from StarFleets finest. I mean, really? A  single, all-encompassing policy can't possibly deal with every situation and you all need to learn how to adapt regulations as a situation evolves.

I want you all to write a paper on the pros and cons of the prime directive and how to circumvent the moral problems presented by Cadets Vro, Kirk and McCoy. I suggest you form groups, it will be due next week. Any questions?”

 

Fucking StarFleet mind games.

 

\----

 

Look he wasn't some bright eyed dreamer, ok. He knew how the fucking world works - people get hurt and killed and sometimes your last line of defense was a pile of bandages and a some glue, and sometimes it wasn’t _enough_.

 

He hadn't joined StarFleet because he believed in it. Not really. Jim had, under all that bravado and cocky charm, Uhura had, Gaila had, because she’d seen the world without it and didn't want that for the future.

He’d joined because it felt like space was the only place he could go and not be followed. By memories or mistakes or his own ghosts.

 

But this...this was beyond anything even he could’ve come up with, even in his whiskey fueled rants that he knew Jim listened to with half a whole smirk on his face. A whole goddamn planet...

 

The part of him that he trusted, the doctor who had stitched people back together so many times he almost forgot what a miracle it was, he relied on that to organize triage, get the mebay into some semblance of order.

 

Except now they were docked, and Sarek had arrived with the medical team to escort a still unconscious Miz Greyson down to the surface, and Boyce had come charging in with his team for Captain Pike, all tight eyes and downturned lips and a heartbreakingly sincere _thank you McCoy._  

And his medbay was empty. And “his medbay” wasn't his anymore was it?

 

The Captain - Jim, had said that StarFleet Brass wanted them beaming down together. All the “senior staff”. He had snorted at that one, _senior staff_ , hah, all of them (except Spock) hadn’t even graduated yet. Senior Staff.

Shit.

 

But here they are, taking a shuttle down to the surface. Here they are, facing the press that had apparently insisted on this, because no matter the century, the press were still fucking vultures sometimes.

 

At least they would be twenty yards off. Close enough to get pictures, to far to get anything else.

 

He did a roll call in his head, anything to take his mind off the shitshow they were gonna walk into. Any second now. Uhura had five sisters, he knew that. Jim’s Ma had apparently bullied the entire admiralty into getting her ship back on time to meet them. He wasn’t shocked. His Ma and Dad had managed to get to SanFran, he’d known that from her short, frantic comm.

Sulu’s family was almost as much legacy as Jim’s, Chekov had muttered something about Uncles and the “family” not liking public spaces much. His Ma was coming though, apparently she was some kind of Russian mathematical genius. Must be genetic.

And Sarek would be in the hospital, waiting for Amanda to wake up. He almost pitied Spock, but he was too damn tired. And at least she was _alive_.

 

The shuttle hit some turbulence, but fuck if he cared.

 

And then they were there, the shuttle doors opening, striding out behind Jim, their _Captain_ , as if it was the most natural thing in the world for a coupla jumped up cadets to be running the flagship.

He’d hardly had time to adjust to the light before something going fifty miles per hour knocked into him.

 

“Daddy!”

 

And he had a jumble of _her mama's hair_ and _her daddy’s eyes_ and,  _his chin, her mouth_ , sass as wide as georgia and fuck, they’d almost lost this, fuck, he’d almost watched this go up in smoke. He’d spend a thousand years out in that cursed black just to see her safe, just to see them all safe, and wasn't that a trip?

  
He didn't join starfleet because he believed in it. He joined because he _didn't_. Funny how some things work out anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> So I have this headcanon that while Jim believes in what StarFleet stands for, he also thinks its a fucking mess and maybe they can fix it from the inside. Meanwhile Bones thinks the whole think is bullshit and he joins because why the hell not. (he changes his mind, eventually)
> 
> Also, dunno if you caught it, but yes, Chekhov is a mafia baby. And Amanda Greyson is alive, this isn't above for discussion JJ, SIT BACK DOWN.
> 
> When I decided I was gonna write something for every week of Trek Fest I didn't realize how much writing? would be involved?? Anyways, no ever said I made good decisions, so yeah. Yippe-Kay-Yay.
> 
> A/N Edit : I fucking hate the Prime Directive for multiple reasons. Like, I get why it exists, but also no. So, sorry, but those rants are 100% my opinions.
> 
> Kudos and comments feed the author. Also I'm vain as hell sometimes, so follow me on tumblr under the same name.


End file.
